Page 42 of Most Valuable Player
Mason’s eyes fuzz with incomprehension.
I wait a moment, then try again. “Water boy?”
The word gets his attention, and he peeks up at me. “Quarterback,” he says.
“Get inside and change into something warm.”
His focus slips down his front, where his shirt and pants cling to his purplish skin. “Okay.”
I start trailing backward, waiting for him to enter his house, but he doesn’t. Just grips the edges of his wet jersey like he’s lost all sense of direction and meaning.
“Water boy,” I say firmly.
His head quirks. “Quarterback,” he responds.
“Give me your house key.”
He does, though it takes him several seconds of fumbling through his pockets. I use it to unlock his door, then pull him into his house. Just as I’m stepping over the doorframe and back onto the porch, I feel a light touch against my wrist.
“Don’t leave,” he whispers.
I swivel toward him in astonishment. He’s staring at my feet, though his fingers are curling in around my wrist, his featherlight grip strengthening.
“I’ll call him if I’m alone,” he breathes. “Don’t leave me.”
Him?“What do you need?” I ask, closing the front door. He makes a barely audible exhale, and his shivering hand drops from mine.
“Just…stay.”
Maybe that gets a smile out of me. I hope he doesn’t notice. Cam Morelli shouldn’t smile like this for anyone. Softly. Kindly. That’s not who he is. I say:
“Then I’ll stay.”
Chapter Thirteen
Mason
I don’t know how I’m still awake. I also don’t know why Cameron is humoring me so late.
I drink two full glasses of water, take a brief shower to scrub the lake water off me, change into flannel pajamas, and brush my teeth. I don’t throw up, which is damn lucky, though there’s always tomorrow morning, when I’ll be inevitably hungover. All the while, my hands itch to find my phone. Whenever it vibrates, it doubles in weight, causing my posture to sag.
I’m better than that worthless man I was. And I’ll stay better. For you.
Those words have been swirling between my ears all night. I don’t believe them. But Iwantto. I want to sobadly.
“Are you sure?” Cameron asks.
I blink, orienting myself, and realize I’m lying under my covers while Cameron stands beside me, dressed in boxers. Why did hestrip? “Am I sure about…what?” I squeak, my low body temperature correcting itself comedically quickly.
“That we can share your bed.” He looks strangely earnest. I’m used to Cameron wearing a cocky grin and winking more than he blinks. His greenish-blue eyes glimmer like water under the golden aura of my bedside lamp, and his highlighted hair is appropriately stirred from beach wind.
I’m so busy staring that I forget he asked a question until he raises an unruly eyebrow and says, “I know I’m attractive, but I’m standing in my undies and getting cold and perky, so can I squeeze in or not?”
“Why are you in your underwear?” I choke out.
“Your clothes didn’t fit me and my pants are wet. Remember?”
Well, it’s not like I haven’t seen him in a more compromising state (that being when he was in practically translucent underwear after being shoved in Ravi’s inflatable pool), so I say, “Okay.”
